


O, Christmas Tree

by southsidewrites



Series: A Very Merry Southside Christmas [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Comedy, Cute, Fangs tries to be a hero, Fluff, Fluffy, Friendship, Funny, Gen, One-Shot, Short & Sweet, and choas ensues, big brother Fangs, southside serpents, swangs, swangs bromance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: When Fangs' mom has to work instead going to cut down the family Christmas tree, Fangs takes matters into his own hands.  With the help of his snarky twelve-year-old twin siblings and a mildly grumpy Sweet Pea, Fangs treks into Fox Forest, determined to make this the best dang Christmas ever.





	O, Christmas Tree

“Hijito, can you pick up your brother and sister from school today?” Fangs’ mother shouted from her room where she was finishing getting ready.

“Yeah, ma, sure!” Fangs replied, not looking away from his phone.

“And then make sure the kids eat something, something besides chips and ice cream, ideally.” She walked into the kitchen, already dressed in her scrubs for work. “Got it?”

“Mhm.”

“Try looking at me when I answer, so I know you’re listening, Fangs.”

With a sigh, he looked up from his phone. “Fine, Mom, I’ll pick up Miguel and Sarah from school and throw a pizza in the oven or something.”

“Good, thank you.” She ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll see you after my shift if you’re still up.”

“Yup.” Fangs returned to his phone.  Just before his mother got to the door of the cramped trailer, though, his head shot up, his eyes wide. “Wait, Mom, you’re working tonight?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Yes, exactly, that’s what I just said.”

“But it’s the weekend before Christmas”

“Sure is.”

“And we always go get our Christmas tree the weekend before Christmas.”

“Usually, yes.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Get to the point.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “So, if you’re working today, when are we going to get our Christmas tree?”

“I don’t know, Fangs,” she sighed. “You know I need these extra shifts right now because—”

“Because Miguel and Sarah’s dad has bailed on child support for three months running.” Fangs’ lips pressed into a tight line as he thought about the man.  While _his_ dad had never been around much, his siblings’ dad was a grade-A piece of shit.  If it weren’t for Toni talking some sense into him, he would have gone after the guy long ago.

“Hijito, relax.” She walked back into the kitchen and squeezed his shoulder gently. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, and we’ll be fine.  I’ll just take a few extra shifts in the meantime, he’ll pay eventually, and everything will be fine.”

“What should I tell the kids?”

“I don’t know, sweetie.” She looked down at her watch. “But I’m going to be late if I wait any longer.  Give Mrs. Rodriguez a call if you need any help.”

“Okay, will do, Mom.”

“Love you, Fangs!” she called, rushing out the door.

“Love you too, Mom!”

* * *

 

“Alright kids, here’s the deal.” Fangs stood in front of the couch where the twelve-year-old twins were sitting on the couch, phones and a slice of pizza in hand.  His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had pulled himself up to his full height to look down on them. “We have a mission tonight.”

“What mission?” Sarah asked, setting down her phone and giving Fangs a skeptical look. “Is this some dumb Serpent thing again?”

“Some dumb Serpent thing?” Fangs sputtered. “No, this is not some dumb Serpent thing, not that Serpent things are dumb, ‘cause they’re not.”

“Get to the point, dude,” Miguel said, starting on a second slice of pizza. “I’m already bored of this.”

“Jeez, kids these days.” Fangs shook his head. “Back in my day—”

“You played outside, ate dirt, took candy from strangers, didn’t wear seatbelts, and somehow made it to adolescence,” Sarah finished. “We get it, Fangs.  Now, what’s the dumb Serpent mission?”

“It is _not_ a Serpent mission!” Fangs fought to keep his voice down. “It’s more important.  It’s for Mom.”

This caught their attention.

“What do you mean it’s for mom?” Miguel asked. “Did she leave another list of chores that you’re going to try to pass off as a mission like when we were dumb six-year-olds?”

“I literally don’t know why I even try with you two.  Can I please tell you what’s going on without a single sarcastic comment?”

Sarah smirked. “Highly doubtful.”

Fangs exhaled slowly. “Fine, but keep it to a minimum.  Now, the mission.  What do we normally do this weekend every year?”

“Buy Miguel a new winter coat because he’s well on his way to being the next Jolly Green Giant?”

Miguel shoved her. “More like buy Sarah a new phone because she dropped another one in the toilet.”

“Hey, that happened _once,_ and—”

“Enough!” Fangs bellowed. “We get a goddamn Christmas tree—that’s what we do.”

“Fangs, you need to put a quarter in the swear jar for that one,” Sarah said, crossing her arms and taking on an expression scary-similar to her mother.

“Two, actually,” Miguel corrected, “because goddamn is compound.”

“Later,” he snapped. “Right now, we need to worry about the Christmas tree.”

“Are we still going to try to get one without Mom?” Sarah asked warily. “Because that sounds like a bad idea.”

“We are, in fact, going to try to get one without Mom, Sarah,” Fangs said, starting to pace. “Actually, we _are_ going to get one, no try about it.  We’re going to hustle ourselves over to Fox Forest, find the perfect tree, cut it down, bring it home, and decorate it.  Then, when Mom gets back from her shift tonight, she’ll be thrilled to see that we have a tree, and it’ll be the best Christmas ever.”

“Hold up,” Miguel said, holding up his hand and furrowing his eyebrows. “We’re going to cut down a tree?”

“We sure are.”

“Why can’t we just go to the farm and buy one like we do every other year?” Sarah asked, looking more and more skeptical with every word that came out of her brother’s mouth.

“Because Mom didn’t leave any money,” Fangs answered. “And it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I called her up and asked for money.”

“Oh, but we have a spare chainsaw laying around?” Miguel replied, crossing his arms to look up at his brother. “Not to mention, someone who knows how to use it without chopping my legs off?”

“A few inches wouldn’t kill you.” Fangs shrugged, trying not to think about how his twelve-year-old brother was well on the way to outgrowing him.

“Nah, but bleeding out from the bloody stumps of his former legs might,” Sarah replied with a shrug.

Fangs rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about how we’re going to cut the tree down—I’ll take care of that.  All I need you guys to do is eat your pizza, put on coats and boots, and keep the snarky remarks to a minimum.  Can you handle that?”

“Probably not,” Sarah chirped.

“Depends on how cold it is outside,” Miguel added.

“Just eat your damn pizza.”

“That’s another quarter, Fangs!”

* * *

 

“Why are we stopping at Sweet Pea’s house?” Sarah asked, fiddling with the radio in an attempt to find a decent Christmas station.

“Because Sweet Pea said he could get us an axe.” Fangs parked the car in front of his friend’s trailer.

“Why does Sweet Pea have an axe?’ Miguel asked.

“I don’t know, Miguel,” Fangs answered, trying to keep his voice down.  He loved his siblings, but he had thought they were past the stage of asking questions about everything.  Clearly, he was wrong.

The door to Sweet Pea’s trailer opened, and he walked out a handsaw in one hand and an axe in the other.  Unlike Fangs and his siblings, who were bundled up in winter coats, hats, boots, and everything else, all Sweet Pea had on over his jeans and flannel was a leather coat and his usual motorcycle boots. 

Frowning when he saw the kids, Sweet Pea tossed the tools in the bed of the truck and leaned against the passenger side door.

“What the hell is this, Fogarty?” he asked, pushing his hair off his face.

“This is the favor, man,” Fangs answered. “I’ll explain on the way.”

Shaking his head, he opened the door and squeezed in.  Sarah, who was now pressed against the much-taller teenager, opened her eyes wide. “Wait, he’s coming with us?”

“What, you didn’t think I was going to cut down a tree with nothing but the assistance of two twelve-year-olds, did you?” Fangs asked.

She nodded rapidly, awkwardly shifting around and trying to find a way to not touch Sweet Pea in the crowded cab. “Well, yeah, kind of.”

“What, Sar?” Fangs asked with a knowing smirk. “You don’t like Sweet Pea?”

“No, I—uh—I—you—we—but—”

“Relax, kid,” Sweet Pea laughed. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not without consent, at least.”

Sarah’s face turned so red it almost matched her puffy winter coat.  Instead of responding, she just made a little squeaking sound and pulled out her phone to type rapidly.

Sweet Pea and Fangs burst out laughing, and Miguel looked deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

“Alright, kiddos,” Fangs said through his laughter. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

* * *

 

Determined to find the perfect tree, Fangs led the group deep into the woods, leaving the path and trekking through the thick snow.  As evening started to fall, the temperature began to drop, and a new layer of snow was falling steadily.  Still, Fangs pushed onward.

“Faaaaangs,” Sarah whined, her breath visible in the chilled air. “I’m cold.  Why can’t we just pick a tree and go?”

Fangs tugged his foot out of a particularly deep snow bank with a grunt. “Because, Sarah, these trees are too big.”

“I agree with her, Fangs, this fucking sucks,” Sweet Pea grumbled.  With a saw clutched in one hand and the axe in the other, he looked even more threatening than usual. “We’ve passed plenty of short trees.”

“Yeah, but they’ve all been ugly, right Miguel?” he shouldered his brother, who was breathing heavily into his hands in an attempt to warm them up.

He looked up at his brother with a sympathetic look. “Fangs, I’m over this.  I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve managed to make a night out even worse than sitting at home with you.”

Before Fangs had a chance to be offended, he was cut off my Sweet Pea’s booming laugh.

“Damn, Fogarty, they’re pretty damn funny.”

“Yeah, hilarious,” Fangs grumbled. “Damn hilarious.”

“Fangs, it’s getting dark,” Sarah called. “Can you just pick a tree?”

Fangs looked up at the sky and cringed.  It was getting dark, and the snow was coming down even harder.  He knew how important it was to get this tree, but it definitely wouldn’t be worth it if he let his little brother and sister freeze to death in the process. “Alright, let’s pick a tree then.” He pulled to a stop and scanned the endless trees in front of them. “See any good ones?”

“That one!” Sarah called, frantically pointing out a little tree about fifty feet away. “That one looks small enough for our house.”

“It does,” Fangs agreed. “Let’s get that fucker and get out of here.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and continued trudging through the heavy, wet snow.

Once they got to the tree, the four of them pulled to a stop, looking the tree up and down.

“Now what?” Miguel asked, cocking his head to the side to look up at the tree.

“Now you let me at it,” Sweet Pea said.  He handed Fangs the saw and adjusted his grip on the axe.  “Make some space, kids.”

Eyes wide, the twins took a few huge steps back.  Even Fangs looked a bit nervous as he watched Sweet Pea start practicing his swing.

“Sweet Pea, are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked warily, pushing the kids behind him. “We can always try the—”

_THWACK_

The axe slammed into the truck and bounced straight back, flying out of Sweet Pea’s hands and soaring through the air.  Sarah shrieked, pushing Miguel in front of her, despite the axe flying in the complete opposite direction.  At the same time, Sweet Pea let out a stream of curse words as something small and grey flew out of the tree at him. 

It was a squirrel.

The squirrel’s claws dug into the front of his coat, making the most horrible high-pitched squeaking sounds.

“What the fuck?” Sweet Pea grabbed the squirrel, losing his footing in the snow and slipping onto his ass with a thunk. “Get off me, you little fucker,” he swore, rolling around in the snow as he attempted to pry it off his coat.

Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth as she watched in horror.  Meanwhile, Miguel was laughing too hard to stay upright.  Clutching his sides, he slid onto the snowy ground. “Oh my God, Sweet Pea’s wrestling with a squirrel—AND LOSING!”

Fangs rolled his eyes, tossing the saw to the side and striding through the snow to his friend.  Clenching his jaw, he reached down, gripped the wiggly little animal, and plucked it off Sweet Pea.  The squirrel’s mouth opened in what he swore was a snarl, and he tossed it back into the snow where it scurried off.

Sweet Pea brushed the snow off himself and climbed back to his feet.  There was a dark look in his eyes. “Alright, now I’m wet, cold, and angry, and that tree’s going down.  Miguel, hand me the saw.”

Fear in his eyes, Miguel grabbed the saw and handed it to Sweet Pea.

Sweet Pea gripped the saw and crouched down next to the trunk of the tree.  Fueled by squirrel-induced rage, he took the saw to the tree, cutting through it with surprising ease.  The Fogarty siblings watched, and Fangs let out a cheer, but then, Sweet Pea froze.

“What happened?” Fangs asked, his face dropping.

Fuming, Sweet Pea stood up, and in his hand was the handle of the saw.  Not the whole saw, just the handle.  With a shout, he whipped it into the snow.  “New damn plan.”

“Sweet Pea, man, we can just give up, you know.  It’s just a tree, man, no need to—”

“Sarah, find the axe.”

With a nod, she ran off into the woods to find the axe wherever it had landed earlier. 

“Fangs, we’re going to get this tree down if it’s the last thing I do,” Sweet Pea had started pacing around the small tree, eyeing it up like he was about to take it in a fist-fight. “How willing are we to risk one of your siblings for the mission?”

“Um, zero,” he replied, taking a cautious step in front of Miguel. “Ideally, we can cut the tree down and bring both of them back home.” 

“How about you, can we risk you?”

“What kind of fucking question is that, man?”

“Quarter, Fangs,” Sarah said sharply as she returned with the axe. “And that brings you up to a full dollar fifty for tonight.”

“Sarah, I swear to fucking God, I’ll—”

“Dollar seventy-five.”

He groaned, clenching his hands into fists. “I’m really starting to regret bringing you two on this mission.”

“I don’t remember having much of a choice,” Miguel piped up. “I believe your exact words were, _you’re coming with or else.”_

“Not that _or else_ would have been anything particularly scary,” Sarah added. “It’s just easier not to argue when it comes to these sorts of things.”

“Back to the point,” Sweet Pea interrupted. “While I do love listening to your sibling banter, we have a tree to take down.”

“Alright.” Fangs clapped his hands together and looked back up at the tree. “Let’s get this done before it gets dark.  What do you need us to do, Sweet Pea?”

“Well, the saw’s over halfway through the tree, which means that it should be pretty easy to snap.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Sarah asked, looking at the tree skeptically. “It’s not like we have some rope or something to pull it down with.”

Sweet Pea looked between the three siblings, his eyes narrowed with concentration.  Then, his eyes landed on Miguel.

“Miguel, how much do you weigh?”

Miguel shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Around a hundred, why?”

Sweet Pea nodded slowly. “That just might do it.  Fangs, get over here.”

Fangs walked over, glancing back at Sarah to make sure she was a safe distance away. “What are you thinking, man?”

“We grab Miguel, wind up, and toss him at the top of the tree.  The force of the momentum should be just enough to knock the thing over.”

There was a long pause.  Miguel was looking at Sweet Pea like he had just grown a second head, and Fangs appeared to be deep in thought.  Sarah was sputtering out a jumbled slew of complaints, but none of the boys were listening.  Finally, Fangs nodded.

“You know what, man?  That might just be fucking dumb enough to work.”

“Yes,” Sweet Pea laughed, clapping Fangs on the back. “Let’s do this.”

Miguel tried to scramble away, slipping on the snow and hitting the ground in the process. “No way, dude.  No fucking way.”

“Miguel!” Sarah cried, her priorities shifting at the speed of light. “The f-word, really?”

“Fuck yeah,” he spat, failing to wiggle out of his older brother’s grasp. “They want to throw me at a fucking tree.”

“Relax, kid,” Sweet Pea said, bending down to grab his ankles and lift him up.  “Just grab on when you hit, and you’ll be fine.”

Fangs had shifted his grip from Miguel’s shoulders to his wrists, and now Sweet Pea and he were holding him off the ground. “It’s really not that high, Miguel.”

“Sarah, help!” Miguel shouted as the older boys started swinging him.

“How?” she demanded.  She watched with rapt attention—Sweet Pea and Fangs _were_ pretty strong, and the tree wasn’t _that_ high.  Maybe it was just dumb enough to work.

Before anyone got another word out, Sweet Pea started the countdown.  “Alright, three, two, one, now!”

The toss was glorious.  Miguel went soaring through the air, his arms outstretched in front of him like wings as he flew.  His mouth opened wide in what was going to be a shriek before the breath was sucked out of him.  In a twisted way, it was like he was re-tracing the route of the squirrel from before, except this time, Sweet Pea’s anger was sending him into the tree, not out of it.

He impacted with a crash, the tree swinging under his weight as he scrambled to find a handhold.  There was a loud crack from the stump of the tree, and for the briefest moment, it seemed like Sweet Pea’s batshit plan may have just worked.  Then, the tree stilled, and Miguel was still there, clinging to the top like a giant, skinny koala. 

“Well, that didn’t work,” Sweet Pea stated, looking entirely unperturbed about what had just gone down.

“Didn’t work?” Sarah shouted. “ _Didn’t work_?  You imbeciles just threw my brother into a tree—what on _earth_ made you think that might work?  I don’t care how attractive you are, Sweet Pea, that was the dumbest fucking thing I have ever seen.”

Everyone was stunned into silence, and then, Miguel started laughing.  He held the top of the tree tighter, shaking the branches as he lost control. “Sarah, you just said that Sweet Pea’s attractive.”

Her face flushed bright red, like she just realized what she had said. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Fangs laughed, gripping his sides as he fought to stay upright. “How long have you been holding that one in, kid?”

“I—uh—that’s—”

“Aw, cut the kid some slack,” Sweet Pea said with a smirk. “She’s only saying what countless other women have.”

“This is so dumb,” Miguel whined, still kind of laughing but realizing exactly how uncomfortable it was to hug a pine tree. “Help me down from here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fangs walked over, ready to help him down, but then Sarah’s voice made him jerk to a halt.

“Wait!”

“What, Sarah?” Fangs asked, grinning like he wanted to laugh again.

“Rope,” she said, rushing over. “We don’t have any rope.  What we do have, though, is a tall, skinny twelve-year-old that’s conveniently attached to the top of the tree.”

“That’s brilliant!” Sweet Pea walked over, eyeing up the tree again. “Look how cracked the bottom is—one good tug on Miguel’s ankles, and it’ll come right down.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Miguel shouted. “I am not a rope!”

“No, but it’ll do.” Sweet Pea reached up toward him. “Kick your legs down.”

“I am not kicking my legs down.”

“You may be tall, kid, but I’m taller.  Either you kick your legs down or I yank them down for you.”

Sweet Pea’s words had the intended effect, and he kicked his legs down, leaving him hanging on to the top of the tree with everything he had.  His face was bright red again, and he clearly regretted ever agreeing to come along on this mission.

Fangs and Sweet Pea each grabbed one of his legs.

“On three,” Fangs said. “One, two, three, pull!”

The pulled, and the crack echoed through the forest.  Everything was moving in slow motion as Sarah watched.  Fangs and Sweet Pea went down first, sliding onto their backs in the wet snow.  Then came Miguel, flying down toward them, looking more and more like the psycho squirrel.  Finally came the tree.  Wood chips and pine needles were flying everywhere as the tree slammed down into the three boys, covering them in even more snow.

“Yes!” Sweet Pea shouted, shoving the tree off them and yanking Fangs and Miguel to their feet in one motion. “We fucking did it!”

“We did!” Fangs shouted, yanking Miguel into a hug. “We fucking did!”

* * *

 

Maria Fogarty got home late—her shift had gone well over twelve hours, and it was close to ten at night.  She was surprised when she opened the door to hear Christmas music and laughter coming from the living room.

Suspiciously, she set down her purse, not bothering to take off her coat as she walked in.  What she saw waiting for her made her break into a wide grin.

“No, dummy,” Sarah was laughing. “We can’t put the angel on it yet—Mom does that.”

“I really don’t see how you’ll even get it on,” Sweet Pea commented, sipping from a big, red mug. “We are aware that the tree’s about a foot too big for this room, right?”

“Shut up, dude,” Fangs snapped. “You just drink your hot chocolate and be grateful we haven’t kicked you out yet.”

Maria looked at the tree with wonder—Sweet Pea was right—it was far too tall.  It was also a bit scraggly, and the stump looked like it had been chewed out of the ground by some kind of animal.  It was upright, though.  Crooked, but upright, and the kids had covered it in lights and ornaments.  Maria’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Hijitos, what did you do?”

“Mom!” Miguel called, shooting off the ground and running toward her to pull her into a hug. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, I am.” She looked closely down at her son.  He was covered in bumps and bruises, and he smelt distinctly like sap. “What happened to you.”

“Long story.” He shrugged. “Come see the tree!”

Sarah was standing proudly near the tree, ornaments still in hand. “Do you like it, Mom?”

“I love it,” she laughed, blinking back tears. “So, so much.  And I love you all, too.”  She pulled her other kids into a hug, even forcing Sweet Pea off the chair to hug him, too. “I love it.”

Letting them go, she inspected the tree.  It was rough and awkward, but it would certainly suffice.  She couldn’t contain her grin.  Then, she noticed that behind her, Fangs and Sweet Pea were fist-bumping.  Putting her hands on her hips, she turned around to look at them. “Alright, you two, what happened here?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Mrs. Fogarty,” Sweet Pea said, grinning in a way that assured her they had been up to no good.

“Yeah, Mom, what do you mean?” Fangs added, putting on his most innocent expression. “All we did was get a tree.”

Looking even further behind them, something in the kitchen caught her eye.  The swear jar.  Before she left, it had been empty.  Now, it was full nearly to the top. “Sure you did, boys, sure you did."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to check out all the other amazing works posted for the Riverdale Reindeer Games, and have an awesome holiday!


End file.
